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Word of the Day: demesne

There are distinct rumors going around in my head that I might just be starting to get not only caught up, but ahead of things in the not-too-distant future. Ahead of things would really be a wonderful, awesome miracle, so if you could, think very good thoughts and that little fairy should take to its wings and fly. Hopefully, it will not then immediately fly into a windshield or something. That would be awkward.

Today’s Word:

demesne

As in:

There are dangers lurking in every office building. These dangers go beyond the leftovers in the shared refrigerator, beyond the creepy guy in the break room with the red stapler, and beyond the sharp corners of paper. This is the danger at the heart of the buildings themselves.

Within the design of office buildings, with their long stretches of identical halls and teasing passageways, is a a deep, malevolent intent. Buildings are keen to keep you, after all. A building intends to trap and confuse anyone who enters into its demesne. Those that, for even one moment, become lost or disoriented are in danger of being captured by the cunning creatures of the modern labyrinth. They only need a sliver of purchase to snag their prey, and they will snatch that sliver in the instant between breaths.

One of the most insidious of these lurking foes is the filotaur, a creature with the head of a bull, and the torso of a file cabinet. Its head remains hidden with the most sophisticated camouflage known to the animal kingdom.

When the creature strikes, late at night, when you are all alone, it folds you into its drawer-depths, and files you away, never to be retrieved.

Another creature from the bowels of hell and office buildings, is the waiting room couch, a creature more accurately called the sofastasaurus, which lies in wait for someone to rest her weight on its lap. The “lap” will flip the unfortunate soul into a fold of the membrane between the “back” and the “seat,” sliding them into its churning stomach. In seconds the trap resets, and the sofastasaurus returns to its harmless and even comfy-looking appearance. It loves to exude disorienting pheromones into the winding, identical passages, until its prey, tired of wandering aimlessly and confused by the sweet smell, the victim lets down his gaurd and relaxs on the inviting cushion-like seat. Too late! The trap has sprung.

Beware the terrors of the office building! Heed this warning. Always bring a buddy, and never, ever stay after hours.